AN: I orginally I planned a jump skip hence the title Years, but I changed my mind. Edited and removed a stupid snippet. I could write better. Merged FF's chapter 5 and 6 into this chapter (Years Part One and Two) now that it's not too long.
Chapter Four: Years
White dresses.
"C'mon Alex, try this on," he heard his sister cheer when another shirt came flying over and onto his head.
"Dana!" he called out finally under so many ties and hats, and… well with a bundle of clothes in his arms. "I. Don't. Need. This." He should have known. He should have listened to the voices in his head. When a man enters a clothing store with a woman, his pride will disappear within seconds.
"Sure, you do."
"No, I don't."
"You do," she called out back with the same enthusiasm from somewhere in front of the store.
"I don't."
"You do."
"Don't."
"Do!" A certain brunette with locks of red hair conquering her bangs poked out from the aisles of clothes. "If you haven't noticed, you look like a scumbag-hobo." She pointed out before disappearing into the forest of fashion, branded fashion. Middle class was all over in its signature.
"Did he say that?" Alex demanded.
"He said it more nicely than me," Dana replied calmly. "And just so you know, that getup of yours doesn't look too friendly or comfortable."
He didn't want to look too friendly or comfortable. That was the point. If it meant he was less approachable to people, fine by him.
"It looks stupid as well. If you haven't noticed, Houston isn't New York."
Ah yes, the balmy heat of Houston, Texas… not that he was complaining or anything.
"He also said that you shouldn't draw attention to yourself, especially when people could draw similarity to… the guy on T.V," she said with more strain in her cheerfulness. Couldn't help but hear the hidden edge in the last bit as well.
"Y'know I can change," he retorted. Shapeshifting was his thing. She knew.
"Don't." Her voice lost all its cheerfulness but the scraping of plastic against metal did not stop in her concentrated browsing for articles.
"I meant clothes, Dana," he added softly.
"Oh… but, aren't you… hot in those?"
"Dana, I never felt cold," he answered. "Well I do, but it's not uncomfortable to me. It's the same as hot." Extreme weather at its worst was nothing for Mercer to worry about. He never felt the painful ache the cold brought nor did he understand what was it about stifling heat that bothered people so much.
"Y'know Alex, the animal kingdom always have some system when it comes to regulating heat in their body. What's yours?" Dana poked her head out again. "You don't… smell, and you're not glistening like some sweaty fat guy." She was seriously going there. The fuck should he know, part of him was still learning what he could do, what his body was doing. "You shed? Cause I'm not looking forward on stepping on a big layer of dead skin on the carpet at home."
Home… Houston has become home to her, that old apartment that once belonged to the older resident of virulent abomination… was home.
Part of him felt like seething at that.
Another just felt reluctant, especially at the thought of taking her away from that apartment, forcing her to move again.
He did not want her unhappy.
"I don't," he replied flatly.
Suddenly his sister snorted, chuckling somewhere in the aisle of clothes. "Take a look at this." He heard the rustle of fabric and his sister came out what looked like a blazer… butchered with rainbow vectors.
The fuck?
"I am not wearing that," Alex hissed, dropping the pile of clothes in his arms and backing away.
"Oh c'mon! Try it." Dana moved closer and him backing away more until he hit the mirrored-wall.
He side-stepped away when she shoved it forward.
"Try it," she said again with that mischievous smile on her face, following after him as he backed… into the small, oh so very small changing room. Alex grimaced at the paper-thin walls around him, fighting the urge to punch through it all and just run away.
But he was not one to run away. Nor would Dana find his destructive means of solving problems amusing.
"No," he answered stubbornly. There has to be a line drawn here and this is one of those.
"Please." Dana eyes glistened as she looked up at him, her bottom lips pouted out a bit as her raised arm hung despondently, offering the piece of abomination to another abomination.
No. No. No. No. NO.
"Alright," Alex growled, eyes rolling upward.
"Great!" She handed it to him with a grin on her face. "I'll go get the pants."
Wait, there was a pair of pants that go with this? Alex froze at that line of thought. What had he fallen into when he walked into the store?
"There was also this nifty hat and some cool shades I saw," she continued on from somewhere further up.
Zero pride. Zero pride… Alex wanted to groan and just… melt into a biomass goop right about now.
He couldn't help but think she planned this. The handy digital camera in her hand helped that line of thought.
She left many things in New York. He brought only the necessities with them. Her clothes, the research on Gentek as well on Blackwatch, her brother's laptop… all enough to fit an armful box.
But any nostalgic or precious items of hers were never brought and would probably be lost now. There was no way she could get them back. There weren't many anyway, but she couldn't forget the pictures that marked her progress all through her life.
Especially one she had smiling besides Alex at his ceremonial award night. Another of the great many she had collected in her photo album, an item that she sorely missed since. More than often in her life, she looked back at the photos in them. Those days where her brother was there, in her wondering and worrying over him and what has come to pass between them; rumination of the past that hung up on her like a stormy cloud.
She had none of her past anymore to hold onto, and somehow… she felt a little bit free as well sad about it. New life started with a cry... it seemed no different when comparing her realization at the hospital.
Alex had noted her blues, had asked her why.
This new apartment lacked photos, ornaments, personal touch, it was a blank canvas. Some part of her expected to see old photos up on the wall since she had made herself comfortable here.
In total brutal honesty, she answered with feelings and all.
He retreated for that. The irrational thought came to her, he left, went to New York to get those items back. Couldn't help but think he was crazy enough to go back to their old home.
He came back with a camera instead just as she was yelling into the phone, Patrick on the line calming her down. Awkwardly, he presented it to her, face impassive at ever hearing her doubt on his absence.
It wasn't new, but it came with the box itself. It was something expensive, something professional photographers dream to own. Economy was in the shit hole, and as expected this rarity was on a sell. Living cost was on the rise after all. She held back her remark of him having to rob this since he looked so… anxious back then.
She did say a simple digital one was enough, but this made her happy as well.
He gave a rare smile in answer. Scowling did not suit that face well after that. She made it her job to make sure he smiled as much as possible.
The first thing she thought of using the camera was after… the day when Patrick went down from the mighty fortress of his accounting firm, then simply commented on the crabbiness of her brother's clothes.
Naturally, she defended but it gave her an idea what to do, a gift in return for the camera.
It was supposed to be happy a fun day for him, except he was groaning through all her failing effort. For such a big brother, he was acting like a younger sibling.
But she did catch smiles. The soft smirks. She sneaked out snaps of it, as he often frowned whenever the lens came up. But at times, she liked to think he let her sneak in those snaps, even though he would notice movements of camera raising from the corner of his eyes. She also had all the blackmailing material of him in classy style of clothes as well in funky purple, an abhorrent color according to his non-existent fashion sense.
She wished he brought other clothes that she spent saved money on, quite a shame to lose her favorites. It did not matter much anyway, what with Houston's climate entirely different, with only new and old clothes fitting Minnesota's cold climates, if not New York's chilly autumn. It was out of practicality for her to seek out Houston's current clothing trend that was more befitting to the heat. So this day was her outing as well, and no amount of complaining from him was going to stop her.
"You're supposed to chew," Dana mumbled when he took one bite of the chicken, one whole bite. The cracking of bones reverberating loud in her ears… and then it stopped. He did not even swallow yet when he opened his mouth the insides were empty.
He ate the bucket of chickens like popcorn.
At her mentioning, Alex emphasized the chewing, only to hear cracking of bones breaking loudly dragged on.
"Y'know what, just continue doing that thing you were doing," Dana cut in.
He stopped, thankfully, but had a pondering look on his face. "Why a chicken bucket?" he asked all of a sudden.
"Cause I'm hungry," Dana answered simply. "I don't know why," she said, frowning. "But I think I'm eating a lot these days."
He looked at her, alarmed.
"Alex." She exhaled at the look. "If you haven't noticed, it means a good thing. It means I'm getting my appetite back, a sign my body is recovering."
"He told you that."
"Actually, my doctors told me that." Dana smiled smugly as she tilted her head. The red streaks in her bangs were more apparent now that her hat's wide brim was out of the way. She wore it like a scar, a scar that she didn't want to forget.
"Have you been contacting Ragland?" she asked, filling the air between them as she nibbled her drumstick.
"No. I told him to keep low and keep contact minimum."
"You said thanks right?"
Actually, he said more than that. He let Ragland ask him for any favor, any time… to which the doctor replied along the lines of just get out of my life. Treated like a buzzing fly, really.
"Yeah." He looked away.
She gazed off at that. "Houston doesn't have many places to go unlike New York," she commented. "But it's nice, don't you think?"
It was. He meant their days of course. Not the city. It was Pariah's city after all. Couldn't help but not liking it, especially when it gave him the sense of so many eyes watching him. He held back a grimace at the feeling.
Something black, heavy and wet crashed into him, sending chicken nibbles flying as well as the shopped clothes and groceries scattering off.
Now rarely was he knocked off unless what was hitting him had the force of a launched missile, or an asphalt or a hunter's claw, or all of them at once. But it hit him like a fucking flying truck and sent him sprawling on the dirt.
"Oh my God, Alex! Are you okay?"
Someone was going to die today. Alex growled when he lifted his face up from the ground only to be smacked by a wet slimy tongue right in the face.
What the… A lolling black Labrador dog jubilantly stared back at him. Icy eyes glared at the dog, enough that should have sent the usual strays running, except it didn't. It must have a death wish or something.
Animals did not mind him but they avoided him all the same. This one didn't.
Dana was laughing in the background as he stared in confusion, couldn't help but feel the joyous jubilant from the dog. Inside his head.
'Par?'
'Par? Par? Par? Par!'
It was strange to hear a dog's thoughts… but then, if he could hear it, that would mean…
The dog was infected.
He got up as the Labrador did a dance in front of him, excited beyond… beyond something.
Never had an animal greeted him this happily and this enthusiastic.
And with how today was going on, the experience was surreal to the say the least.
Under his staring, the dog shot off, went to Dana to lap up her laughing face suddenly. Immediately, he flexed to throw it off into the sky if it even so much threatened her.
But it went straight into the bucket of chicken instead, head disappearing down the hole then out quickly in a bit, magically disappearing what was left of the chickens before she was circling around up ahead.
"Hey!" his sister called out as the spastic dog ran around. "Those weren't your chickens you little shit!" She immediately chased after the running dog, her sun hat blown off in her running.
"Dana, wait!" Alex yelled, torn on whether to pick up the fallen hat and chase after her or leave the stuff behind only to get a chewing out later.
Damn, why did his sister have to buy so many things today?
A moat of ruffling feathers, the crooning of pigeons, the flaps and beating of wings, a warm sun overcasting the afternoon sky, it was a nice day.
He tutted slightly as the pigeon wiggled in his hand, the stubby end of one leg imaginarily clawing at him, lost it in an infection probably by standing on its excrement. He supposed he could give it back, but he wasn't at all assured it would learn its lesson.
This one was sick, carrying a human disease inside it. A bit dangerous considering the bacteria it carried could compromise a human's immune system.
Something he would need to nip in the bud.
Attending to the city's pests that stood all around him, covering every bit of space with their presence, some even dared to perch on his shoulders as he inspected. Others mingling about on the bench and under his seat. He only picked those that required attention, something not that difficult to do as each one were linked to him.
The sound of distant barking and excited scampering, the moat of feathers startled, parted into flight. Beating of flashing grey and white wings scattered all around him when he looked up.
A black blur emerged out amongst the spectating with white summer dress chasing after it.
Soft whispering lullabies of misbegotten Hope, a faint static joy, a red haze and the scarring fleshy, throbbing veins… and her wearing white, white summer dress; his mouth parted, breath sharply inhaled… a gasp like one get from being punched, he felt like he was punched.
"Come back here, you runt!"
Green eyes blinked, opening back into a colorful world, out of the strange nostalgia when he heard the yelling.
'Par?'
The air felt thick and sluggish, the sun glaring too harshly; its warmth wasn't comforting. The flocks of pigeon all around him were annoying now. He knew this feeling, he was... upset. Uncomfortable.
Pariah grimaced, he rested his temple onto his hand, his face shielded from the sky. But why did he felt bothered by this? He glared at the feathery broods who all edge away from him, feeling the sudden turn of his mood as a wide clearing appeared around him.
"Is this your dog?" he heard the sharp voice of a young woman. "Cause your dog needs to be put on a fucking leash."
Sasquatch scooted behind, giving a soft whine when she leaned under his arm, a child trying to escape punishment. He raised his head, gave the most killer smile and greeted, "Hello, Queen Bee."
Dana stepped back. "Patrick." She blinked.
"Wonderful coincidence, huh?" he went on cheerfully.
"Y-yeah," she stammered uncomfortably, her hair in full view under the spotlight of the glaring sun. He felt something inside of him twinge at the sight of her hair. "What are you doing here?" she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"I could say the same with you," he replied calmly, eyes on her hair. "Still not wanting to rid it?"
"This?" She pointed at the red part of her bang. "It's doing no harm. Why bother, anyway? Besides, I'm quite tired at having to deal with changes in here." She rolled her eyes at that.
'Littermate?' he heard Sasquatch whine inquiringly, nudging his arm towards her direction. The smell of him and the image of her doubled over laughing as well a certain younger family member that had a scowling feature conjured up in his mind.
It was befuddling her, for Par, him, was always One. Just singular. No other like him. He was unique.
Gordon closed his eyes at that, inhaled deeply before tiredly looking up at the world conspiring against him today.
A dog's nose never lies, especially an infected dog's nose.
Pups from the same litter smelled the same because they shared the same womb, it should be impossible for Sasquatch to draw similarity. Last he checked, he did not recall sharing his time in the womb with another sibling… especially with a certain foul-mouthed journalist that was almost two decades younger than him.
Any siblings that happened to share the same womb with him, would've been consumed… by the biological war that made him.
Except, apparently to Sasquatch's nose, there was a similarity. Pariah felt a bile of loathing climbing up inside him when he admitted what exactly was the similarity.
She really did stink of Zeus, and he wasn't at all sure that it was because he was affectionate as a cat bunting. The younger Blacklight was entirely the opposite of that.
But under the scent of Zeus' zealousness, fried Kentucky chicken, and fragrant flowery shampoo, muted but there. So mixed in, with enough similarity, like how the smell of burning fleshes was similar to that of ham being cooked.
The memory of being wrenched away, the light so bright that the world was just… blinding, his senses overwhelmed. The scent that accompanied since his time in darkness and comfort was so close… but so far, so helpless he was. Pulled away despite the screaming, screaming and screaming of him, mother and Hope being parted. Perhaps it was his mother's haunting recall, she was always reliving that moment of celebration. Perhaps it was truly his own memory of his birth. Perhaps it was both; they were once One after all.
"Are you alright? You look pale."
A hand on his shoulder, the scent stronger and closer for him to breathe in. The white in his face, clean white that wasn't like the dirty one he remembered. He remembered flowers and polka dots.
But it was similar enough, despite the slight difference.
Why does she have to wear a summer dress?
He leaned away unconsciously.
Happily, he had been ignoring his nose and focused more on the detail of his vision, city air was not something he wished to smell. It was not entirely pleasant to a sharp nose like his.
How was it possible despite the virus being inactive in her? She simply did not smell of death like how those with cancers do. She shouldn't even have any similar scent. But she smelled… she smelled like…
Like mother.
He'd never forgotten the smell of his mother despite never meeting her in his childhood, and always he would recall a feeling that he couldn't put to words while at it. A feeling that haunted him, always there every time he closed his eyes and when he delved into the hivemind, what made him dream red, of memories sleeping with his mother's voice everywhere and humming. He was sure, there were memories of his time in the womb. Runners remember, meticulously.
Death, sickness, disease. To Squash… it was now the smell of littermate, family.
"Pat?"
'Par?'
His vision was red.
"Dana!"
"Pat, hey, you're kinda scaring me."
His shoulder shook under her hand.
"…Philip, I don't like that look on your face…"
"...You've got it everywhere, boy!..."
"...Pariah, what have you done?..."
"...My son..."
Whispers, chatters, lullabies humming, screaming—
"Daddy!" squealed a girl and he felt something warm collapse onto him. "Are we going to pick up Hank from his friend's house, now?"
"Uh… yes." He blinked rapidly, smiling with a bit more force then stood up. "C'mon Elise," he murmured down to his daughter, then looked apologetically at Zeus' sister before snapping at his dog with his fingers.
Sasquatch immediately ran ahead, frisky and excited before waiting for them calmly.
"Elise?" He heard Zeus' sister murmur.
"Her name. I didn't change it," he added without turning, before walking away with his girl.
"Who was that lady, daddy?"
"She's…"
"She's what?"
Your aunt.
"Huh, that was strange," Dana commented when he reached her side.
"What just happened?" Alex demanded, he swore the voices in his head went extra loud… not to mention he heard a woman humming.
"Nothing." She frowned as she stood there by the bench, surrounded by the flocks of grooming pigeons. "I think Pat just had a blank out moment."
"Pat?"
"Patrick," she answered then glanced at him. "Met his daughter. Her name was Elise," she continued calmly despite his tone.
"Elise?"
"It's an abbreviation for Elizabeth. She looks like a Hispanic kid though." Dana had a thoughtful look on her face. A look that made him wondered what she was really thinking about.
He turned his gaze, towards where she was gazing off onto the back of a man walking in a distant with a pony-tailed young girl tugging at his hand. Mercer grimaced at the coincidence. Every time Pariah was nearby, the voices… the hivemind in his head always behaved strangely.
He should have listened to his instincts. When they came here, he merely thought it was because they were out in the open, where eyes from the tall buildings could look down on them, now… now not so much.
Alex stared hard on the birds around them then bared his teeth. He could sense the virus in them.
Eyes and ears… so that was how he watched his city.
There should be crooning, the flapping of feathers beating and brushing the air. Except those feathers were still, heads up and all facing at him, no movements or shudder… only the many souls of mere beady black eyes watching him; windows for a certain family member to watch through.
She's back.
"I didn't know you had family members, Philip," he heard her comment quietly.
"Recent additions," he answered emotionlessly. He hasn't told all the complete truth, but then he'd never had the chance.
This was the first time she made contact throughout the years.
"I… I don't deserve this, do I?" she murmured through the phone.
"It's never too late to connect. The way I see it, you've done no wrong."
"I left him."
"For a good reason. You told me that."
"But not entirely fair." He heard the sound of her inhaling in sharply.
"You're crying."
"What if he hates me?"
"I hoped not. I expect more than just his emotions getting the better of him."
"Philip," he heard her mutter disapprovingly. "He's only human. Unlike you, we can't step back."
"I know."
She sighed.
"Why now, Lin?"
"I don't know. But at least I've got the feeling I won't be getting a bullet in my head anytime soon."
"You should've run."
"And I should've let you dealt with my problems like my knight in shining armor?"
"Lives were at stake."
"I know… that's why I left."
"I could have-"
"I didn't want you to."
"For pride then?"
"Let's not start this, Philip. Please."
He breathed in deeply at that. "When are you coming back?" he asked, absentmindedly scratching Sasquatch's head as she slept, curled up against him.
"Soon, sometime this year."
"You've made the bookings?"
"Yeah… but, I might change the date." Or cancel it… "Your family…"
"We're more an acquaintance, Lin," he added. "We're not happy happy joy joy here. Let alone family."
"I worry about you, y'know."
"Lin," he scoffed. "I have a life."
"You don't have any friends, I mean one you can go to just talk."
"I have a hobby. I've got the kids. I socialize with the common mass. That's good enough." He shrugged. "And you worrying about me, now?" He chuckled raspily.
"You're right, I shouldn't have…" her voice turned soft and heavy.
"You're such a woman."
"You're an asshole."
The line didn't click shut.
"I am… apologetic."
"I know." She huffed softly, probably smiling behind the phone. It was… a nice image, he admitted. "Hopefully, I'll make it before the end of November."
"Come earlier."
"Why?"
"Cause you don't want to deal with the airport on that day. It's Thanksgiving, remember?"
"Alright…"
The Pariah...
There was a difference in him, a difference between Philip and Patrick. Philip was honest, Patrick was a liar, a very good liar but not all was false pretense. Oh he was real… in the biological sense, what he feel was real.
"If you feel, are you pretending?"
Patrick can be honest too, but how much was pretended she didn't know.
The difference between them were stark. Philip was brutal in his honesty and he was less… expressive. He lacked emotion, basically. No smile, no joy, no sadness, not even anger. As if a part of him was switched off and all that left was this curious yet logical creature. Philip unnerved her more and he wasn't entirely pleasant.
She had no qualms though, but...
If he could make himself feel for anyone, who was to say any feelings were real? He could force his own body to exude the same symptoms of being in love. Trigger it, like drinking a love potion. He could make himself sad, make himself cry without feeling sadness, make himself feel pain and then joy within seconds.
And he could easily rid that feeling. Switch it off.
A lot of things were different for him.
He wasn't human after all… in the grand works of his nature, what place does partners either friendship or lovers exist when it has entirely negated the need of one. When he felt love, was it same as a human felt for their lover? Would the fleeting love between two birds be the same as what humans have? With that logic, could what he made himself feel the same?
It was love, but whether its humane or real was a whole another matter.
"The question is, is it good enough for you, Lin?" His grin much wider than normal and his eyes bright yet distant.
His level of intimacy, commitment, passion wasn't exactly stable. They keep changing as he did whatever he did to himself. His lust was entirely nonexistent, after all his virus…thing skipped the process that all other lifeform must go through in their pursuit of surviving, living. One of the reasons why the idea of seeking out partners was so perplexing for him.
Philip Greene did not get romance, didn't need people.
"Survival after all is about keeping as many options open and available," he joked.
It was something so arbitrary for him. At times, she had wondered if he was a psychopath of some kind since he was such a difficult man to deal with.
As for attraction, she has yet to figure that out why he picked her. All the pretty words he would say, could it be real? But attachment, oh it existed.
In a possessive level.
"You can't. Leave. Me." Him being emotional was not a good sign, he grew out of control. Yet the more emotional, the more of that empty expression became more adamant.
No one could be that empty, right?
Wrong. So wrong.
PARIAH.
She'd never met PARIAH. She met… two men. She… alright, she met that part of her ex-husband once and he was the most unpleasant. He ignored her, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, wouldn't talk, just stared through her, and when he did something, it scared the shit out of her.
One time she found him going through a packet of white papers, obsessively drawing places he'd never been, portraits of sleeping young women, other time grotesque shape of humans and writing nonsensical sentences, conversations of something he memorized and heard from somewhere. He drew New York's Time Square once. When she tried to look at them, he would snatch and rip them apart before her.
He almost kissed her once when he was in that state, it wasn't the usual quick chaste kiss Philip would give softly on the mouth, nor was it like Patrick's teasing one as he grinned, holding a laugh when he did. It was needy… volatile, yet curious and it left her body hurting everywhere.
It was the first time she saw the flickers of black tendrils and pulsating black veins. Then he switched off… just in time, as the veins had crept down over her body and in her, the floor scarred by the web of black pulsating veins. She woke up from the nightmare, feeling wanting to vomit after she lost conscious.
She stayed sick for more than a week after that with him hovering her closely, genuinely worried and regretful before he gave in to her wishes.
Marrying him was marrying all these made-up personas… and the worst thing, the real one never, never had love. Wasn't capable… as in feeling what humans felt for another. She still couldn't quite understand what he meant by that, when he mentioned how he struggled to care about certain things yet could pretend so well as if he did.
He was frustrating.
He could not be just a liar, a pretender after that. He could snap just like any other people.
But she couldn't understand how a being… like him could exist.
Her husband, borne from the fruit of an experiment. A lab rat. A creature.
"Science says the first cell nucleus originated when a virus took a bacteria as its host. Makes human just as much part of virus."
"I didn't mean it like that, Philip."
He had explained so patiently how his body worked. He explained his nature, what he was capable, and what he thought of it.
He talked about how he had enough control over the virus that he could theoretically rewire himself to allow him to develop a normal human neurology, or as close to one. Effectively, he'd be able to rewrite portions of himself to let him have emotions.
It was easier to think she just had a little weird partner.
"Still am. It's why I'm telling you this, Lin."
"It's what you BELIEVE why you're telling me."
She did love him, was even fond of his little weird quirks before she learned everything, why the little things were off about him. He was there in her happiest time, and in those moments when she was struggling the most to be there for her growing son. She was thankful of him, despite all part of her instinct saying not to depend on him, despite her thoughts in her head going: no, no, maybe he's just making you feel like this. He is capable of making people feel good. Like the same way he does in making himself feel what you feel for him.
He made them feel that way.
"But I didn't do anything to you."
"Oh please. You just confessed on passively mind controlling people to like you! Who's to say what I feel for you was because you MADE ME feel this way."
It was up to her to believe the words he said. The question is… how real is Patrick Gordon?
Just another mask… right? A con man.
"I made myself this way for you."
She had laughed. This man was insane. The being was insane. To change themselves, who they are, what they are, and for what?
"It started as a thought experiment, but it became more now."
Coming back was a mistake, she should not be here. Her heart was still trembling, her hands were stiff in their motions, and the feeling of apprehension over the things that went wrong in the past and could go wrong in the future came back to her ten times. She always had a difficult time controlling her emotions. While others could manage them well, she couldn't. Being with Philip and his utter controlling and constant emotionless state, made her feel like she was a wreck clinging to him.
Seeing him standing amongst the mundane busy airport… with that ridiculous welcome sign.
Can't believe you got through security… how?
Her chest twisted, her ears were slightly burning, and here she was, with his… family. How real was Patrick Gordon now?
"Why do you have to invite them?" she heard the sulking tone of her ex-husband.
"Why did you take the children away?" she replied back with equal annoyance.
"Cause I don't trust my family under the same roof as them," he answered with the obvious. "And the kids were happy. They get to celebrate Thanksgiving twice!" Tonight in a friend's house, and tomorrow, where they make it up to them.
"We're right here, y'know," she heard the sharp-tongue pale woman reply crossly from the dinner table.
"I don't trust him." Philip shoved his fork at the air, at the direction across him.
A pair of piercing blue eyes just glared back.
"Ditto," she heard a gravelly voice growl. "Can we leave?" he demanded at his sister beside him.
"No," she replied. "We're sitting, and we're gonna try to get to know them. Besides, you suck at cooking. I'm not entirely good at it either, and we've got nothing in the fridge. And this being Thanksgiving, fuck no I'm going out to get grocery with the traffic going on."
"I rather you keep your distance," Patrick piped.
"Well too bad." Dana smirked. "You cook in my kitchen, I get to eat in yours."
"Are you just this annoying? Do you mooch off anyone that so much enter your life?" her ex growl.
"Philip, it's Thanksgiving. Try to be nice," she chided when she walked up to the table with the last of the serving dish, holding back a grimace when a certain pair of silvery eyes drilled into her. She placed the plate before him stiffly and quickly moved away. The hair on the back of her neck rigid.
She could feel the very stark resemblance between him and Philip. Philip at least learned to get rid… whatever the hell that made her body crawled.
"Thank you," he murmured quietly after her.
"Never had legit Chinese food. Mostly it's from packets," Dana commented.
"Trust me, it's nothing like the packet. So dig in," she told them, smiling. "It's been a long time I cook restaurant quality food," she murmured.
"I am so happy that I can waste my money on this trivial holiday exists to empty my pocket," Philip said cheerfully then snapped shut, eyes looked unhappily at the steaming dinner before him. "Ham?"
"Yes," she answered then wanted to slam her face into the plate when she sat down.
He did not like ham… the smell of it cooking anyway.
"It smells like burning flesh, Lin."
The hundreds of barges, filled with dead corpses of infected and victims burned on New York's river. She'd seen long hour reports on Manhattan's citizens all claiming this smell as well as red skies.
"I… I forgot," she said quietly to him and them. "I… the smell must be getting to you."
Dana looked up. "The ham? Well, it smells like good food cooked… not bunch of dead corpses. Trust me, even with how people saying there's similarity, the barges are much more bad smelling."
"It's not the smell, it's the reminder it brings," she heard the quieter man answer beside her.
"I see…" she said softly.
Philip only had a frown on his face. "Lin, where did you get the ham?"
"From the garage freezer," she answered, looking at him. "Why?"
He spun around and look at her sharply. "Lin, those weren't meat! Those were… those were pieces of me!" Biomass.
Lin eyes were widening as her ex-husband grabbed the tablecloth then pulled it, spilling all the mess onto the carpet, breaking plates, spilling red wine and scattering food.
Dana froze, fork right near her mouth until her brother swiped it off, sending it flying across the room and clattering onto the floor. Something… black moved from the mess with loud squelching could even be heard.
"A-A-Alex," Dana pointed at the carpet, face really pale and sick, a small whining sound escaping from her throat. "I-it… it's…" It's moving. It was moving.
"I thought I was just imagining the burning sensation at the office," Patrick exhaled, hand going through his hair at the close call. Thought the house was on fire, until Lin assured she was just cooking. And it had to be the day that his dog wasn't here to stay at home to tell him if anything was wrong.
"I am so sorry," Lin cried. "I… I didn't know!"
"It tasted like shit anyway," she heard… Philip's brother mutter. Alex was just snickering beside Dana, enjoying the misfortune falling upon his once nemesis with how his sociopathic grin plastered on his face.
Even with the sum of all horrors and shock combined, nothing could compare to his sister was feeling right about now. Her eyes were wide, her mouth opened and she slowly turned to look at her hosts for tonight.
Said shit-tasting ex was pinching the bridge of his nose, and shaking his head.
Couldn't get a single normal dinner. A brother who eats people. An… acquaintance who keeps parts of him in the freezer garage. And Mandy who cooked pieces of her husband for Thanksgiving.
Well fuck me if this is my life now.
"Where's the fucking wine?" Dana whispered. "I need the fucking wine, now."
Philip, as always, ran away from the house when things did not go to his way.
Well she was blimmin' fine. Her face was still red at the thought of feeding her guest with pieces of her husband, ex-husband. It was like some modern spin to the morbid version of Red Riding Hood.
Sick, as Dana would gag.
She didn't want to deal with him anyway. After this blow with the dinner tonight, Mandy Lin was at an all-time low. Coming back was a mistake. She only came back for Hank but just ended up feeling she was in the way of her son's happiness.
"Shit," she whispered, wanting to break down at the moment.
"At least there was dessert," she heard Gordon's… relative murmur behind her. "I mean, it was okay! Ignoring the incident earlier," slurred the young woman. Dana, was it? "How do you even deal with him?!" she blurted. "Who the fuck stores pieces of themselves in a freezer? I mean, seriously? Oh honey, I happen to have my arm in the freezer. Don't mistake it as raw veal."
"More like how I ended up having feelings for him," Lin muttered sourly. She wished she was like her ex, switch off her emotions whenever they complicated her life. Would make things so easy.
"I thought… you divorced him," the journalist prodded. "Judging from your lack of WHAT THE FUCK, HUN, you knew that… part of him being… y'know, not… human."
"I didn't want to," she answered back, and exhaled tiredly. "But being born into a criminal family gives you a lower standard on the people you meet. How else would've I allowed this… body-horror into my life?"
Fraudsters, con men, dealers, smugglers. Business in the illegitimate side. One she wanted to get out from. Only to accept a much worse thing than her own washed out family. Debts, she hated debts. It was why she was here, why she was forever screwed. It was why she owed it to him, and to her own son.
"Well, at least you don't have to deal with… giving birth to body horrors, cause I might be dealing with that in the future," Dana muttered sourly. "It's one of the reasons why… I'm a biological relative, since I carry the genetics that made him and Alex."
Lin looked up from her troubles and stared at the journalist. "He explained you were cured."
"Still carrying those virus DNAs in my cell, like those HIVs victims. What was the word," she frowned. "Incubating. There are some even hanging around outside the cells, but doing nothing. But hey, doesn't cross out the chance I might have tumor-goo babehs."
"Oh… if it makes you feel better, Philip and I did have a happy relationship… despite, y'know, not getting s-some," Lin stammered. "Said he didn't want to risk it." She frowned. "Well he was more like, you can't handle me. No, really, you can't. You will most likely die if I do take things that way. I can even knock you up without doing the act!" she finished lamely in a horribly exaggerated deep raspy voice.
Dana was snickering at that. "So you were happy being in a celibate marriage?"
Her face turned bright red. "We didn't…" she murmured.
"I'm sorry, what?" Dana broke her out of her thoughts.
"I…" Lin struggled. "It wasn't conventional sex, okay!" she blurted out loud. Look at her, in her late thirties but still stuttering at the topic. "It helps in relationship, yeah, but it's a small thing to me," she added weakly.
"That's what she said."
She wanted to facepalm so much right now at her words.
"You're drunk!" Lin snapped.
"Hey, you wanted to explain! No need to shout," Dana snorted but doubled over laughing. "It certainly shows hope for Alex." She sighed, smiling then noticed her steaming off grumpily.
"Is just…" Dana mumbled, trying to get into her good grace. "When I heard you two. I just... I... yeah," she finished lamely. "It really shows hope," she muttered. "I mean Alex's soooo antisocial," she blurted. "I might need to fix that."
"He might not appreciate your effort."
"It's just a little blind date," Dana brushed off.
"The girl has to accept she might have to enter a sexless relationship, an entirely unconventional one on the matter. If she's coming from an average pop culture standard, that is."
"Yeah... that might be the off thing when it comes to dating... them," Dana said weakly. "I mean, knowing Alex, his dates will just end up being dinner. I mean he tried eating the neighbor simply because the guy pumped music too loud late in the night."
Lin groaned. Dinner and the topic of eating someone… which they almost did this evening.
"I'm sorry," Dana blurted, back to laughing. "But just imagine it as a book!" She laughed. "Know your date. Caution, they might eat YOU."
It would make one heck of a horrible book.
"You're drunk," Lin stated it again much more flatly.
"When you say unconventional," Dana continued. "Do you mean hentai unconventional?"
If she was drinking heavily at the moment, she would've spat, choked, and just died right there for that. "That's it, I'm pulling the beer away from you!" Lin shouted and launched towards her.
The journalist cackled and hic'ed, hugging the beer bottle to her chest as she spun around, pushing off the swipes. She was laughing madly though and ended up falling on the balconies' floor, beer shortly being torn off from her hands.
"How many did you drink?" Lin accused, shaking the beer bottle.
"More than a fridgeful I think… not to mention, I stole some spirits in the cabinet," Dana slurred. "After the incident tonight, I NEED this."
"Wait, you drank ALL of them?! You need to go to the hospital!" Lin knew her ex's tolerance, which was high above immunity. The amount of alcohol he has in the house would've killed an elephant.
"I'm… fine," the pale woman hic'ed. "I can't… get drunk easily. Your hubby told me that. Fuck… I think the effects is wearing off," she added sourly, head leaning too far to the left. "Aaaaaand I want to go to the toilet now," she slurred, trying to crawl up the wall just to stand.
"C'mon," Lin picked her up and escorted her, arm over her shoulder as she helped her along around the furniture. "Where is your brother?"
"He left," she answered shortly in her stumbling. "Hated this place. He says it stinks of him. Really, I smell nothing out of place here. Besides your husband getting cooked."
"Ex."
"You act as if he wasn't."
Lin grimaced then she reached to the doorknob in front of her.
"Sorry," Dana muttered and stumbled through.
"It's not that," she said hesitatingly, leaning on the wall outside, door left opened.
"What?"
"I said, it's not like that," she added loudly. "Y'know he can… manipulate people in the biological level."
"Jedi mind control trick?"
"Yeah," Lin answered her earlier question.
"Alex can't do that, but it's one nifty thing to have," Dana slurred then gagged emptily in the toilet.
"It complicates things. Half the time, I actually don't trust him. Not because he can do that, because I KNOW he's not… he doesn't have qualms using that method."
"Wait… wait, did he fucked your feeling up with that trick of his?"
"No! No, hardly like that." Maybe… if she believed him, and there was no virus in her brain right now.
But knowing Philip, it was hard to believe he was above the methods. He was a manipulative bastard. How else did he get to where he was, how else did he get what he wanted, how else everyone who annoyed him ended sick to death. The thought did cross her, if she had refused him, he would've wiped her mind, or maybe make her happily live on with him blissfully.
Under control.
But then Jenkins, the asshole neighbor of theirs was still living and breathing. Still an annoying asshole, so he probably hadn't done anything to change that behavior. That was a hopeful thought at least.
"I want to vomit but nothing is coming out," Dana whined.
"This is stupid." Lin sighed just outside the door. "I shouldn't have come back."
"N-no, no. Don't think like that," she heard the young woman call out. "There's your kids you've got to think about." A dry heave then a moan. "I'm not going to drink ever again after this."
Says everyone, Lin huffed softly but with a smile.
Tap squeaking, running water, the sound of water splashing and Dana stumbled out, leaning against the doorway while looking at her with that… look, nose scrunched with a crease between her brows, as if concentrating. "You were happy, right?" she asked cheerfully. "Sorry if I sound nosy, but… I mean, it goes to show, there's hope. Even in that… department," she teased the older woman.
"The thing is," Lin began tentatively. "Philip has no urges in that department." Actually, the whole department was missing. Friendship itself strained Philip when they first met.
"It's easier with Hank… familial bonds, siblings, paternal, maternal… enough similarity with what I was meant for."
But not of a spouse.
But he hid that… incapacity so well. Just for her, just for the comfort of illusion, to make her happy. Philip really knew how to act. How to improvise, how to change things in himself, made himself capable of it, and all from reading her. She did not even had a chance to tell what was wrong until he told her.
He was so perfect.
Every need that has to be done, he did it before she could even think of it.
So perfect, that it was… wrong. If she thought about it, it was almost like he read her mind. Perhaps he did infect her. And that was when she noticed the tiny cracks, his smile too tight despite his face altogether pleasant. His issue with intimacy and close physical contact.
His jokes even… the way he says thing. The emotions he puts in his voice… there was something out of place.
The hint of gold in her husband eyes, a hint he was doing his… thing whether to himself or the poor sop that got his attention.
A wolf in sheep's clothing. It was why she wanted to see at dinner, how real was Patrick Gordon with his family… his true family. Cause that was what he was meant for, who he was meant for, wasn't it?
Like an ant supposed to be with his colony.
"None?" Dana called out of her thought.
"Na-da, asexual you say," she answered softly.
"Really?" Dana blinked.
"Uh-huh. He says it's a blurry line with the... feels when it comes to... doing his infection thing and... sex," she finished weakly.
"What?" Dana perplexed. "Are you saying he has orgies when... he does his thing?!"
Lin doubled over, reduced to tears, it didn't help it was her ex-husband they were talking. "N-no, no! It's..." Lin giggled. "I-I don't think he has... the junk," she blurted.
"The junk?" Dana was looking at her as if she was crazy.
"His 'wedding tackle', his 'tallywhacker', his 'johnson', his 'peter', his 'schlock', his… 'willy'" Mandy listed, faltering as she went on, then covered her mouth, laughing at the words coming out. Her cheeks were bright red.
Dana stared at her for a long time. "I think you're drunk!" the journalist poked her. "Tallywhacker! Really? C'mon!"
Lin laughed louder. "In my years with him, I've never seen him naked," she confessed.
"You're lying!"
She was practically in tears now, hunched over, sliding down the wall and pooling on the floor.
"So you still think he's... smooth? Down there? I mean like a Ken Doll smooth. Or does he have... things... that look weird?" Dana cringed when she imagined that. "I mean, what does that say for Alex then?"
Both women looked at each other before bursting into laughter.
"But seriously though." Dana looked down on her with that befuddlement look.
Mandy sniffed, wiping the corners of her eyes before a bitter smile was raised. "Philip… never liked revealing about himself too much. I think he mentioned how he didn't like being exposed," Lin replied distantly. "I guess both of us have our own trust issues."
"Huh." Dana slid down beside her.
"He never talked about his family much," the older woman added. "Especially about his mother."
"If you had a mom who basically caused the Outbreak at Manhattan, would you?" Dana shrugged at the Chinese woman.
"She was behind the Outbreak?"
Dana nodded.
"W-why would she do something like that?" Lin frowned.
How much did he tell her? How much did Mandy Lin know? Dana stared at her then looked away. "I don't know. But what I know, monsters make monsters. What they did to him was what they did to her. Their experiments made this nineteen years old girl into something not human," she murmured softly.
"But Philip didn't turn out like her," the Asian woman pointed out.
"Well look at us mammalians. There are some who fucks, and there some who don't fuck despite the fact we're all meant to fuck just like any animal. We all didn't turn out exactly the same." Dana snorted. "Same case as him. But…" she faltered. "She's not human or like any animal." She couldn't say pure drives either. Elizabeth Greene was intelligent. Despite how… convoluted, there was a reason in her actions.
"You've met his mother?"
"Not really." She was quiet when she answered. "She actually kidnapped me using one of her monsters."
"Monsters?"
Oh yeah, she kinda forgot the whole infected monsters thing were heavily censored.
"Mutated infecteds. They come in varieties," Dana explained. "The common ones are like zombies. But the case here is that those things just don't die despite being mutated so much."
"An expert?"
"Kinda. My brother is the expert though." Dana rested her chin on her knees. "It's hard to explain. She was… a different being altogether. Cruel like how nature can be cruel." Dreams, face, voice, the drifting soft feeling and whispers all around, a reverence that go so much deeper… she opened her eyes in her recall.
"Should I ask?"
Would she have gone against Greene when she had such link, when she was under this mental… intimate bond? She could not call it love, as it was too… brainwashing was not the word she was looking for, because the bond required a lack of individuality in the first place, or a shadow of one. Different, non-human, but it was an intimate strong link altogether.
One of us.
Hives couldn't exist without them.
Patrick Gordon… Pariah was her son, he must have had such a link, maybe stronger since he was a true biological son. Perhaps it was why he didn't stop her, did nothing directly against her.
But why didn't he help her?
He could have helped spread his mother's madness instead, Alex's thought came out of nowhere.
Dana only remained quiet at that. "He could've save her, y'know." She turned to look at her.
"His mother? Considering how much he avoids talking about her, I would be surprised if he's willing to face her at all." Mandy frowned then looked at her. "What makes you think he would?"
"I know he's capable of it, breaking into a government's facility. I mean you knew that… that he eats people, with infecting, I mean," Dana added weakly.
Mandy hesitated. "I don't know much about how it works, but I don't think he needs to."
"Well, from what I know, they could take the form of anyone they have… infected. He could have just walked in there, no need to break in at all. Or fight against an army." Not just fight, but kill, but Dana wisely kept that to herself.
Mandy blinked at this, her face confused and not believing.
Dana sighed in frustration. "She gave me this." She pointed at her bang, the red lightly streaking over her darker brown. "His mother was a red head. Before you ask, I was infected and was becoming this version two of his mother. If the virus could change me into becoming something like his mother, then he probably can change into anyone if he infected them." Especially when the virus could make monsters. People changing into that. Strange, easy to think she or he becoming an it, but not it becoming she or he. Tumor-goos into babies.
"So you're saying… he could have got her out of there?"
He could have saved her, he could have stopped her.
He could have stopped the Outbreak. Why didn't he stop Blackwatch? Why didn't he do anything? How could he let them get away with it? Wasn't he like Alex? Didn't he have the power to do so as well as the hivemind thing?
Was he afraid to fight, was he unwilling, didn't know how to?
"Because he doesn't care, Dana."
"Well, wouldn't he?"
Omake: Marriage
Alex looked at his sister weirdly. "Why are you staring?" he asked at her spacing out, particularly when her eyes fixed at him and she was making a cringing face.
"Lin said something interesting, that's all," Dana brushed off.
He grunted, an audial cue that he was listening.
"She actually doesn't believe he has... " Dana motioned with hand waving at the lower part of her body.
Alex just looked at her strangely. "He doesn't have what?"
"The equipment. The thing that makes man man, woman woman," Dana said weakly.
"W-what?" Alex looked at her, worried then his expression faltered. "Oh."
"...you have one, don't you?"
"What?!"
"Because it might screw up the blind date I set up for you. Y'know... because of unassumed expectations."
"Dana!"
"Something happened," Patrick said peevishly. "Something happened," he repeated.
"We bonded, that's all Philip," Lin answered as he heard her wash in the bathroom. She was getting a bit annoyed at her ex-husband's repetitive question and uncanny observation.
"Besides you catering pieces of me and feeding it to the guests, you sure everything was fine?" he asked.
"Philip, that was a poor taste of a joke. You should stop."
"Dear, I think you were being innovative. A good chef puts a part of himself in what he cooks."
"Philip!" his ex broke out laughing. "Stop!"
"Then explain why she looks at me weirdly every time. She even tried avoiding being touched by me."
"We talked. About you not having a… a…" his ex wheezed.
"A what, Mandy?" he demanded, a bit worried.
She muttered it in Chinese and he heard her break down into laughter.
He was mortified. "You're a horrible human!" he hissed. "Take my clothes, take my money, take the kids, take everything, cause YOU," he snarled through the door, "just took my dignity!" She could hear footsteps stomping away from the door.
Mandy Lin just continued laughing as water droplets ran down from over her head.
His wife… seriously believed he lacked… he lacked… goddammit! More stomping, he spun back, and spluttered the words out, "I thought you weren't interested!"
"Well, I was curious," she shot back.
"So all those times..."
"Oh, God. Those were incredible. But it's not quite the same as... well..."
"You could have asked." She didn't mind before, she didn't say anything before, he gets she was being respectful, but she could have said something! Anything at all to avoid this from happening!
"Well, by then we were already going through the divorce," she replied.
"... did you divorce me because I wasn't... performing?" They say a happy spouse doesn't get your ass divorced… and when they mean happy, they mean in ALL parts of marriage.
He made her… happy, right? Right? Right!
Did poor Patrick Gordon screw up on some parts?
"Oh, no. Not at all. Although I do admit, you were kind of frustrating sometimes."
"Don't get married," Pariah blurted from somewhere behind.
"What?" Alex turned around.
"If you fall in love or develop the symptom of being in one, I will happily rewire the neural pathway that makes you capable of it," the vague nutcase continued.
"Is that a threat?"
"No, it's mercy on your part. And good luck on your blind date!" Pariah yelled off the last part as he launched off.
AN: Soylent Greene